A Love Affair Between Ukraine and Taras Shevchenko
by creative7
Summary: In which Taras Shevchenko realizes that his love for Ukraine extends a lot farther than he thinks.


Katya read the poem, written by a lover long ago, for the umpteenth time, with tears welling in her eyes, as they always managed to, when she read the ending. The poem was not the only thing making her sad though. It also made her remember the writer, Taras Shevchenko. Katya had the situation of being the personified version of Ukraine. This meant that she was kicked around by her neighbors throughout history. Especially her brother. She depended on him economically, and yet he hindered her at the same time. Half of her wanted to love and accept him, and half of her wanted to break free. But that's another story for another day. While she was living in her brother's house, nearly all of her Ukrainian identity was siphoned out of her. Enter Taras Shevchenko.

When, as children, they were walking around Kiev, the two bumped into each other and started conversing. He opened up to her about his Ukrainian nationalism. She was shocked, but also very flattered that he still wanted to keep her culture alive. That spark carried her through a lot. They had exchanged names, and the want of friendship, if they ever came across each other again.

They did, when she was visiting Ivan in Saint Petersburg. By that time, he had reached his early teens and was starting a career in art. He told her about another passion of his. Poetry. He had not finished anything yet, but he would soon. Katya wanted to read this collection of poems and appreciate every word; it had been so long since she had read in Ukrainian. He had a certain odd attractiveness about him as well. She had never felt romantic love such as this before; she could not recognize it.

When Haidamaky came out, she secretly devoured it, page by page. She read the entire Kobzar as well. One poem that struck her was called Kateryna. It had a certain eeriness about it that she feared. Despite this, she could not put it down. As she read, she felt a strange longing for the poet…

Taras had visited Ukraine once in 1843. She now realized the feelings she had for him. He had grown up, so now he was older than her, human-wise. His eyes brightened as he saw her wandering the Ukrainian roads.

"Katya! It is certainly a surprise to see you here, for a third time. What brings you to the harsh roads?" He carried a backpack and a walking-stick. She had been traveling in between villages.

"Taras, I had never expected that we meet for a third time. It is a pleasure. I must say, I read Kobzar and loved it."

"You did? Well, there's a poem or two in there the Tsar might not be too happy about, but until then, the warning will be spread to Ukrainians everywhere." Katya perked up in curiosity.

"What are you warning them about?"

"It is in the poem Kateryna. You can figure it out, you're a smart girl." Taras reddened, "Uh, Katya, there is something else I need to tell you. I have seen you but three times, but in the style of the songs of old, I am completely enamored with you. You are just so attractive." No further words were needed. On that road, then and there, Taras took Katya in a firm embrace. "Your eyes are like the Dnipro. Your voice is the song of our country." Katya's face was red; she had never been complimented like this before, in a true and sincere way. The two leaned in and lips brushed against each other.

"Wait. If you're going to have a romantic affair with me, you must know something." Taras pulled away, wondering what was wrong. "I know you are a nationalist, but did you know that you've truly fallen in love with Ukraine?" Taras's mouth dropped open and he looked her over, up and down.

"You're…you're a human Ukraine. A representation?"

"Correct. Now, if you want to call it off, that's understandable, but-"

"You now have nearly all of my love, Katya. I give my love to my art, my family, you, and my country. Now that two categories are mixed, my love for you has just doubled." At that point, they picked up the kiss where they had left off. Once Taras had moved his tongue into Katya's mouth, some Chumaks mocked them as they rode by. Taras grabbed Katya's hand and proceeded off of the path, going on to a smaller trail leading to a meadow. He smoothed out a blanket from his backpack, spread it on the ground, and beckoned Katya to lie down. He got next to her, and they proceeded to variously talk about politics, Cossack times (Taras was very interested in the entire history of the country), and the two eventually begun to sing. After a time, the songs got more and more romantic, and just as they struck the final notes of the raunchiest one, Katya started to get up, looked at Taras, immediately blushed and got back down. Taras got quite embarrassed at this point as well.

"I know it's filthy because you're a country and all, but as the songs progressed, I kept picturing you and me…" In all truth, Katya's thoughts had not been too far off of that track.

"Me too." Their eyes locked and it seemed as if an entire conversation was taking place in the minute or so they were looking at one another. Katya wondered whether she could break her and possibly his heart and go through with what both so obviously wanted. Taras pondered whether he could do this with a woman he could not marry and whether he could do this with the personification of his country. Love does cloud the judgment, and the two went to a deep kiss, and this time, they did not stop.

He came two more times in his young adulthood. Once, two years later, and then the year after that. Every time, the two talked and loved in secret. Taras expressed his worries about the Moskals coming after him and killing him. Katya, in turn, complimented him on his writing and how it gave her and her people the strength to live.

The next news of Taras had come to her through her brother, Ivan. He had mentioned how he had been banished to Orsk, to serve in the Russian army. The final blow was that he could not paint or write. He had every one of his joys taken away from him. It had taken every ounce of her strength to not break into tears then and there.

He wrote her a letter five years later.

_Dear Katya,_

_I hope you're doing well. It is sad and lonesome, but the ban on writing and painting is very loose here, so I still have some of my joys. I miss you, and the land that you personify. I still love you, no matter how old and oppressed I grow. _

_Love, _

_Taras Shevchenko_

At least she knew he was okay.

After another five years, he was released from exile, but not allowed to go back to Ukraine. Katya didn't dare visit Taras; her brother was very touchy about him. After two years, he was allowed to return to Ukraine. Katya went to visit him and was shocked. The exile had taken its toll on him. He looked aged and haggard. Taras smiled as he saw his lover, who looked like she had ten years ago. He ran his hand across his face.

"I look like an old man." Katya immediately apologized, as she had a tendency to. "Don't worry. You're immortal and I am not." The lovers wouldn't be united for long though. He was arrested for blasphemy, albeit falsely. He was made to return to Saint Petersburg, separating him and Katya.

Four years later, Katya had heard that Taras was sick, so she came to Saint Petersburg on the pretense of visiting her brother. The two had just celebrated Taras's birthday on the 9th of March, when the next day, Taras weakly called Katya into his room.

"Kateryna…please, read, remember…I always love you…heed my warning…"

"I love you too Taras…warning? What warning, what do you need to tell me?" Katya wept.

"Katya…I love you." Taras's eyes shut and Katya begged him to wake for two hours. When her brother came into the room, he stood in awe. There stood his sister, who he'd tried to keep away from Shevchenko, weeping over his dead body.

"Ykateryna, you're coming with me." Ivan, the personified version of Russia, dragged Katya by the hand, fighting her resistance all of the way. She was locked in a cell for a week and then let out. She went back to Ukraine with some of Taras's friends and family, who were taking his body to Chernecha hill. All of them were burying the body, all were quiet, and all were numb.

Katya closed the book, and Taras's last words echoed through her head:

"Kateryna…please, read, remember…I always love you…heed my warning…" Katya…Kateryna. Taras had written the poem before he knew she was Ukraine, but he wanted the entire country to see what would happen. She was Kateryna, and she had played her part perfectly, from falling head over heels for the Moskal, to complete abandonment afterward. Fresh tears filled her eyes as she recounted her history under Ivan. Her people were used as laborers, they had been treated as idiots, and they needed to be Russian to be famous. Her mind then skipped to the end of the First World War, and the Holodomor. She knew in the back of her head that her brother had something against her, against her identity, but this…starving millions, raising the grain quotas impossibly high, turning brother on brother, mother on daughter, this made it crystal clear. Her mind then brought her to the present. In a way, it wasn't unalike two hundred years ago. You needed to speak Russian to be famous, almost adopt a Russian identity. She had even adopted Russian as her second language! One half of her almost wants to give into her brother's request, "Become one with Russia, da?" but another…another half wanted to be Ukrainian, to drag her existence on longer. Maybe, just maybe then, she could be Ivas, starting a different life.

There was something that she had also been thinking of lately. Her sister, Natalia, the personification of Belarus, who had started the inner battle of distancing herself versus becoming one, had given herself a different last name then Ivan Braginski. Her name was Natalia Arlovskya. Katya still carried the last name of Braginskya. She wanted separation as well, though she knew that her brother would not let her change her name. She now knew what she wanted her last name to be. She wanted the name of Ykateryna Katusha Shevchenko.


End file.
